If I were you,
I'd wear my armor
on the outside
too.

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

I’ve sent you a postcard. It didn’t arrive.
I’ve asked if you would go back to your previous apartment and pick it up, but you didn’t seem sure about that.
My efforts are silly. Nothing is left.
I think it’s dead.

i lay on my couch
taking in all the words we exchanged the evening previous
feeling them swirl around my insides until i come to a definitive feeling

god, oh god, do i want so feverishly
to take my right hand
softly place it upon your cheek, my thumb resting on bone
and replicate with the left,
thereby setting the stage for the next act.

our eyes locked as they shut
heads tilting oh so carefully to the right
and as our noses interlock
a moment of hesitation before -

wet. gentle. but firm.
passionate.
an explosion inside my heart
as all of what will occur past present and future
fades away for one brief moment
wherein we become singular.

but i shall not ask.
my will of patience and kindness
supresses the desire within
until the day comes when i can get my wish.
to see our lips locked tight
a dance of love in our hearts.

Hear ye
Hear ye
Two sham marriages
Instead of one happy one

I slept on the bed
of a poet, Gibran
and there fell a poem
into my head
like a song…

“One day you will ask me
which is more important?
My life or yours?
I will say mine
and you will walk away
not knowing
that you are my life.”

I slept on the bed
of a poet, Gibran
and my dreams were filled
in my heart was a song
a longing so sweet
a desire too strong
till the museum guard came
and moved me along

the good ole days are here and now
the setting of our future nostalgia
and happy reminiscence

live life without looking back
so that one day
it’s worth turning around for

In a drop of you, I lost an ocean of me.